Lateshoes

I’ve been looking back a lot lately at who I used to be and what my life used to be like. I watched a bunch of old home movies last weekend, which always produces the same result: I laugh my ass off and then get depressed.
Watching my family “back in the day” is always bittersweet. My brother and sister were the without a doubt the cutest children that have ever walked this planet. My brother with his rainbow suspenders and bowl haircut. My sister with her baby curls and devil grin. Watching them as babies would make anyone’s heart explode. Plus, there were puppies and ponies and baby raccoons, but my mom was never very happy in videos….and I range from needy and annoying (1st child “look at me, goddammit!” syndrome) to the “get that fucking camera out of my face!” teenage angsty phase. It’s hard and hilarious to watch yourself at 16 saying things like, “Uhh, I hate still photography” and meaning it.
Better still is watching myself say that while wearing a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt and sporting a spiral perm so tight it would rival Dick Cheney’s butthole.

I just got the Veronica Mars season 1 box set in the mail. I know all you haters wanna step…but I love this show like a child and you know me, I have good taste, right? Just trust me and rent the 1st season. I promise you’ll like it.
Joss Whedon likes it. So there.
Ugh. I have a huge horn-like zit on my right temple and it’s making me want to do evil against my fellow man. EVIL.

Is it wrong to hate football but still be ever so happy that Diet Dr. Pepper bottles are once again textured to appear football like?

So, this morning while monitering the hurricane blazing over my mother’s house, I was treated to a rare and hilarious site : Al Roker, while doing one of those, “Look! I’m standing right in the shit!” reports got knocked flat on his stupid face and the the face of the camera man holding his ankles. There’s just no dignity in journalism.

Got the tattoo. Pictures and story tomorrow.

Tonight I’m getting my first tattoo. I’m getting a cursive “L” on my right wrist to celebrate the best love I’ve ever had; to celebrate my husband, who has made me feel more beautiful than I ever thought I could feel, who continues to find my fucking wacko-ness, “cute” and my wicked tongue hilarious.
Hopfully, I won’t piss or shit myself or anything too embarrassing.

I’m sorry, but this was so bloody cute, I just had to share. They’re brothers and boyfriends. They looooooooooooooooooooove each other and they cuddle in the morning making it 10 trillion times harder to come to work than it already is. They’re like little donuts.
Speaking of donuts. I was out way too late last night. Angie is playing bass in another band called Bronco and it was her first live show. I feel like of blubbering mommy, but she was such a champ. She sounded amazing…. she sounded amazing until close to 1 o’clock in the morning (mostly due to the longwinded-ness of the band that played before her)…and as we all know, this working mother of 5 beasts has to be in bed by 10:30 or she’s asleep on the couch. Fuck you. I’m old.
So, this morning, in an effort to not fizzle out and die, I had three very steep cups of coffee. Oh, did I mention the on an empty stomach part? Yeah.
Coffee does to my stomach what Alien-acid does to a reinforced steel cargo deck. Needless to say, I’m a walking Tums-taker in a big ol’ sweatshirt today.
Mother would be so proud.

I repeat: my day has just been saved by one of the leftover Halloween cookies from last night’s movie watching festivities.
God bless Kelly and Shannon and their cookie providing, sweet asses.

I keep getting older. Weekends continue to get shorter and no matter how hard I try, I still can’t understand why so many people like Cold Mountain. It’s so bad, I’ve become obsessed. I finally watched the shit-fest to it’s bloody, boring end yesterday.
I’ve been asked more than a few times to explain the “poop back in butt” tag-line I have going at the top of the page….
Afer watching most of said, Cold Mountain with my mom a month ago, I told Lars that “watching that movie was like putting poop back in my butt.”
So, there you have it folks…and what a story too.

Ok, I’m on hold with a certain cellular phone company, when the girl comes back and says, “Ok, now I’ll just need your password.”
“Uh, like the password I use on the website?”
“Yes, ma’aam.”
“Uhhhh, it’s uhh.. e.a.t.a.d.i.c.k.”